


A Nightmare that turned into a Dream

by schonkirreoder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Sherlock, First Kiss, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8801329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schonkirreoder/pseuds/schonkirreoder
Summary: "I know you, John Watson, and I don't want to be without knowing you ever again."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hellow! So this is my first ever fanfiction! I am soo excited to finally be able to post it haha. :3 I had someone read it beta for me (special thanks to Kiki), but English isn't our first language. Um, yeah and that's it, I hope you like my piece of Johnlock fluff, and if you do so, please leave me some feedback, if you don't mind. Thanks! <3

The harvest moon slowly made its way to the centre of the sky, dusted with rust, brown and gold tones, as John jolted awake, bathed in sweat and breathing heavily.

It took him a few minutes to realise, that he was back in 221B Bakerstreet, in his bed, safe. This nightmare had hit him really hard. He had been having them for almost three full weeks now, after the therapy with his psychologist had stopped.

Every single night after he closed his eyes, he was there again. Back in Afghanistan. Back with all the blood, back to see all his dead companions. And he hated it.

He wasn’t sure if Sherlock noticed any of his struggle, well, at least any more than him, letting out a choked scream every second night. He didn’t act any different, so John assumed he either didn’t notice or just didn’t care.

Each and every night after he was woken up again by one of his nightmares, he heaved himself out of bed, for a cup of tea and a few chapters of a good book to calm down but sometimes he’d just sat in his chair and stared out of the window, lost in his past because he couldn’t bring himself to think about something different. He didn’t know, that silent eyes were watching

Mostly, Sherlock was working on one of his experiments, examining something through his microscope or mixing liquids in test tubes. He either shot a silent glare at John, didn’t even notice him or ignored him completely (he couldn’t really keep those last two apart).

But this night was different.

Everything started out as usual, John jolted awake, got up and moved into the living room in his pyjamas. But Sherlock wasn’t at his studies. He had lit the fireplace and was sitting in his armchair, his head turning and looking at John as he entered the room.

John looked a bit startled “Sherlock, what are you doing?”

It was admittedly quite suspicious to find the detective there, seeming to have been waiting for him.

Sherlock found John’s gaze and fixed it “Are you actually asking me that? This can’t keep going, John.”

Did he just- Did he really? Well, maybe John being awake just annoyed him, so John decided to do the only decent thing for a real Brit and apologise. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t want to keep you from carrying on with your studies.” He said, turning around, his eyes filled with a slight shimmer of disappointment luckily hidden from Sherlock.

“John, you are _not_ leaving. That was not what I was talking about, your nightmares can’t keep going and you know it. I won’t tolerate you letting out a scream every few nights any longer because- “. He wanted to add something but John cut him off, his mind burning with fury. “Oh I am very sorry Sherlock. I am sorry I am distracting you from your ever so important studies because I wake up in complete terror _every single night_. I am sorry that I annoy your ever so extraordinary mind because I am trembling with angst. I am sorry that I’ve been to bloody war and I am sorry that I moved in here – apparently just to bother you.”

John shot a hot glare at Sherlock (who stared at him quite a bit startled, John noticed, satisfaction blooming in his chest), turned round and wanted to storm out of the living room, when he couldn’t.

 

He would have but Sherlock must have gotten up and rushed towards him, as he felt the other man’s grip tighten around his upper arm. Sherlock’s eyes fixed John’s, who found himself almost stunned, unable to move upon his counterpart’s gaze.

“John, you jolt awake every night at exactly 3.38am. I won’t tolerate this behaviour anymore, because-“, but he was interrupted by his flatmate once more “Oh shut up Sherlock, as if you’d even noticed me a single time I was struggling, you’re just making it up .” Of course John knew somewhere deep down, that Sherlock wasn’t making it up, he too, new, that it was always perfectly on schedule 3.38am when he awoke from Afghanistan.

“Well, I obviously have.” The taller man shot back at him, not leaving John any time to interrupt him again “- because I care. Bloody hell John, even a blind man would have noticed by now.” Sherlock blurted out, and the doctor could almost feel the others desire to roll his eyes, but he seemed to be able to restrain himself.

At his words, John froze. He must have had a rather stern look on him, as Sherlock flinched a bit. Wait what. Did he just actually make Sherlock Holmes flinch? But why has he looked at the younger one this way in the first place? Probably because of the fear of this just being another experiment of Sherlock’s.

For god’s sake, maybe his flatmate was just having him on, and he really was playing along well so far! But there was something in Sherlock’s eyes, that made John hesitate to tell him off. When Sherlock met John’s gaze, there was something almost scared in his eyes, something breakable. Immediately he softened his look, realising that the other’s concern might actually be the truth.

This was it, the moment neither of them had wanted to deal with, the moment that had presented itself so many times before, that they had ignored. This was something completely new for the both of them. Neither had dared to even dream of finally confessing to the other one. Revealing the truth about their feelings. Well, they both had dreamed of it, to be honest.  
Now the final moment had come and neither seemed to care, if it was 4 in the morning  
“D’you - I mean - um… are you serious right now? I mean, you aren’t mocking me?” John stammered helplessly finding himself in uncertainty of this whole feelings-thing. If Sherlock was faking this, it would probably be his death. Sherlock just furrowed his brow. “Now why would I be pretending to care, John? Obviously, I’m not. I care about you, John Watson, is it really so hard to understand? I care and I have cared ever since I met you. I know you.” Sherlock made a little pause in his monologue, locking his gaze with John’s, who didn’t interrupt him this time. When he continued, Sherlock’s voice began to pick up speed as he moved along, getting closer again, as he had backed away a few steps after loosening his grip on John’s arm “I know you like blackberry jam best, but not the kind with seeds; I know you only read mystery novels when I’m not around because you fear I might tease you. I know each one of your smiles, and still you manage to surprise me with a new one every day. I know how many times you tilt your head, when I’m acting like a complete madman once again. I know that your hair has approximately 52 different shades, I keep discovering new ones. I know the look you cast on me, when I’ve been thoroughly daft another time. I know you, John Watson and I don’t want to be without knowing you anymore.”

 

This. Was. It. Had he really - had William Sherlock Holmes just confessed he had feelings for John, when he usually denied he had feelings at all? This couldn’t be true, could it?  
It seemed to be, because there were these two startling blue eyes, staring into his, desperately in search of any change of expression.  
John didn’t believe it at first, his expression must’ve been a bit appalled, as Sherlock appeared to attempt a kind of return from his confession, obviously trying to fight tears back and stammering some unconnected phrases.

And that was, when John realised, well, it took him quite a moment, to be honest. “Sherlock” he cut the other man off “- just, shut up, for once, please?” Sherlock looked at John with an almost incredulous gaze but when the shorter one raised his hand and settled it on the space between the detective’s shoulder and neck, his look softened immediately.  
John took a small step closer to Sherlock, their chests were only inches apart, when the shorter one stretched to whisper something into his counterpart’s ear “Do you even know, how long I have been waiting for this moment, how long I have been aching to confess my love for you, Sherlock Holmes?”, at his words John felt goose bumps rising up Sherlock’s back, continuing on his neck, out of the cover of his royal purple button-down shirt.  
John smiled at him, and Sherlock genuinely smiled back. Both men had tears in their eyes.

That was when John took the lead and pulled Sherlock down a little, he followed the others wish and just a second afterwards they felt lips on lips.  
Their first attempt on a kiss was rather bumbling, but they eventually found their way round, without hitting the others teeth.  
Unwillingly they parted for lack of oxygen after what still seemed to short. Beaming at each other, they fell into a tight hug, as if they’d never part again, when warm rays of sunshine began to break the darkness of Baker Street.


End file.
